


The Journal of Simon Petrikov

by SenecaCranesBeard



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Angst, Feels, Gen, Lots of crazy things will go down, Sadness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenecaCranesBeard/pseuds/SenecaCranesBeard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon Petrikov is losing his mind. With everything he once loved gone, his journal is the only thing keeping him together. During his travels, he meets a young girl named Marceline. They both have nothing, but together, they have a family. Can Simon keep Marceline safe from the dangers of this new world? From himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking the first chapters of this story off my profile at Fanfiction.net, but unfortunately, I can't use italics on AO3, (at least I think I can't) So I'll try to separate the Journal entries from the action and dialogue as best I can. Enjoy!

I can't stand it anymore. The voices, they're always with me. I tell them, I scream at them to be silent, to leave me alone. Haven't they caused me enough pain? But they don't listen. They tell me they know how to save me, if I give into them. They can give me ultimate power if only I would accept the crown.

I've seen its power for myself. Millions of people, dying in front of my own eyes, and yet I am left standing, untouched by the waves of destruction that pass through the air.

But I know the crown is lying to me. I can tell. For now, I leave it attached on a rope to my belt loop. My mind feels clearer when the crown isn't on my head, but I must keep it on my person. I refuse to die. Not now. Not after all I've been through.

My surroundings are unfamiliar, the broken street signs lining the roads mention places I have never heard of in my life. I must have passed into another city. I am currently searching for food and water, for my rations are running low. Unfortunately, the buildings that I can recognize as groceries are unsafe to enter.

For moments at a time I forget what I am doing. It takes a minute or so to bring myself up to speed. Is this more of the crown's doing? Am I losing my mind?

Simon Petrikov. My name is Simon Petrikov. I have lost everything and everyone that is dear to me, the world has ended, but I am still alive.

I constantly need to remind myself who I am. I cannot forget everything that has happened to me.

I MUST remember.


	2. Day two

I had finally found a place in this desolate town that contains multiple canned goods and tightly sealed bottles of water. Unfortunately, when I entered the establishment, I was met with a most disturbing sight.

Two bodies, just recently slaughtered but already surrounded by hoards of gnats. It was a man and a woman, lying in the entryway. Their arms were splayed out, fingers inches away from touching, but not quite there.

In their final moments, they had reached for each other.

The sight brought forth a rush of tears and memories, and I knew I couldn't stay here long. Every ancient textbook I have read has emphasized punishment for disturbing the dead.

Apologizing in my mind as I took supplies and began placing them into my large backpack, I quickly left.

I am sleeping on the streets again tonight, currently sitting by a campfire as I write this. The image of the dead couple reminds me of my beloved Betty. I take out my pocket watch, open it and stare at Betty's picture above the slowly ticking clock. Her face is covered by a broken glass shield. It feels so ironic, this glass. Broken just like Betty's body as I sat with her in her final moments.

I shut the watch, and attempt to close my eyes. I know the light of the fire will keep away any of the mutated beasts that roam the streets at night, looking for bodies to devour. Tonight's sleep will be a most fitful one.

~~~

One week ago…

A long, crowded building, filled with terrified families, sobbing widows, and... Betty. The sight of her sent a wave of hope through Simon's body, and he ran to her, ignoring the people he shoved out of the way. He reached her, grasped her shoulders and embraced her before she got a chance to look at his face.

Betty stood still for a moment, stunned, until she came to her senses and pushed Simon away. He smiled as he looked at her face, still as beautiful as he remembered it. Her dark red hair and bright green eyes, albeit now surrounded by light wrinkles of stress and worry. He saw her eyes flicker upward to the crown, still perched on top of his head, and recognition flooded her confused face.

"Simon?" Betty asked uncertainly.

Simon felt like crying in joy right then and there.

"Yes Betty, it's me. Oh, I'm so happy I found you I-"

"But," Betty interrupted him, "I heard you were hiding in the tialdcrest bunker. That one was destroyed. Nobody was left alive."

"I was. I'm here now. It's because I…"

Simon trailed off, unsure how to explain the crown's newest power. Betty just stared at him silently, until she noticed he had stopped talking.

"Simon…I'm sorry but…what's happened to you since I left?"

She reached her arm out and held a lock of Simon's long white hair in her palm, as if she was checking it for authenticity. Her thumb ran along Simon's cheek and his blue skin, on which he had grown a beard. At the moment, it was closely cut and clean-shaven.

"I…well…"

How was he supposed to explain it without sounding like a lunatic?

"It's the crown, isn't it?" Betty's voice was grave and deathly quiet. It took a moment before Simon had realized she had spoken.

"N-no…I just…" his frightened tone didn't help his weak argument.

"Simon, you were never good at lying."

"…Yes. It's the crown. But I can control it!" This lie was more to reassure himself then Betty.

Betty let go of Simon's arms, turning away from him.

"No. I'm sorry, but I can't deal with you like this."

Her words were like blows to Simon's chest. What had he done to her, that first time the crown had been placed on his head?

"Please…" Simon reached for her pitifully, but dropped his arms when she looked back at him.

That's when he heard it. The quiet, whining noise that he had heard once before, right as the world had exploded around him.

Simon yelled for everyone to duck, as though it would do them any good, dived for Betty and pulled her close to his curled up body as the supposedly unbreakable roof was ripped off its hinges.

It had started like this the last time too. People's tormented screams quickly stifled as they were pelted by large, sharp rocks and debris. Simon could barely give them more then a second of mourning. He pulled Betty's face into his neck. He could feel her shaking. Outside explosions shook the bunker, and Simon cried out as his ears rang in agony.

The large pieces of wreckage hit his arms and legs, but the impact felt soft and harmless. The crown was protecting him yet again.

Next came waves of fire. The few people who were spared by the rocks were instantly burned. The crown fought back with its own power, shooting out rays of ice to counteract the flames. Simon could feel the strength of the heat, and hoped with all of his heart that the crown would allow Betty into its sphere of safety.

Then it was silent. Simon could only hear the noise of his own ragged breathing. Below his face, Betty made a weak, strangled cry. Scared of what he might see, Simon opened his eyes and slowly brought his head up, eyes widening at the sight before him.

"No…oh please no…"

Betty was unscathed except for a single shard of metal, penetrating into her back. The only spot of her body Simon couldn't cover had been struck, fatally.

Simon pulled Betty's head against his chest, wrapping his arms around her sides and slowly rocking back and forth, as tears began spilling down his face.

"Don't let go…I promise, if you hold onto me, the crown can help keep you alive."

Betty coughed, splattering Simon's ruined jacket with blood. "It's not right Simon. It's not normal."

Simon felt a momentary surge of anger.

"The world is ending and you care about normal? Look around you. All these innocent people, dead. Is any of this normal?"

"Let go of me Simon."

"I won't! I'll never let you go…" Simon's voice dropped. It was soft and miserable.

Betty raised a shaking hand and placed it against Simon's face. His tears dripped onto her fingertips.

"Simon, look at me."

Simon's blue eyes met Betty's green ones.

"I love you. Please."

Simon dropped his arms to his sides. Betty fell to the ground, her eyes glazing over before she even touched the metal floor.

At that moment, Simon felt the ice completely engulf his broken heart.


	3. Day Three Part one

I am not alone.

You couldn't even imagine the feelings that swept over me when I realized this, even if the situation was grave.

A young girl, with extremely pale skin wearing a bright red shirt and a neat jumper. Though her surroundings were demolished, the child was strangely unharmed, and I could tell in an instant she wasn't human.

As I walked closer, I had noticed she was crying. I put my hand on her shoulder, and when she looked up at me, gently wiped the tears off her face. This didn't seem like enough. Looking around, I had noticed a toy store with its large front window completely shattered.

There was a large pile of toys, most of them burnt or torn. There was one near the back that looked fine, and even though it wasn't the most attractive of stuffed toys, with overlong arms and legs, it was the best I could do.

I gave it to the girl, and instantly her tears stopped, she wrapped her arms tightly around the bear and smiled. Her canine teeth were extremely sharp. A vampire, possibly.

~~~

"T-thank you mister," the small girl whispered, continuing to clutch the bear.

Simon smiled kindly at her.

"Are you alone?" he asked.

Her silence and the frown that reappeared upon her face spoke for her.

Simon crouched down so his face was level with the girl's.

"It's okay dear. I'm alone too. What's your name?"

"Marceline," the girl muttered, the sound muffled as her face was buried in the bear's soft fabric.

"Marceline…that's a very pretty name."

The girl smiled timidly, a slight tinge of red topping her pale complexion.

"I'm Simon. Are you okay?"

Marceline nodded, her choppy black hair hitting against her face.

Simon stood up, biting his tongue, ideas running through his head. He couldn't just leave this girl alone on the street. She only looked around seven years old. Then again, she could definitely be a vampire, so Simon couldn't be certain of her exact age. He had just met her. She could possibly be a bloodsucking demon. Yet… Simon glanced down briefly at Marceline's face. Her eyes were wide and innocent, she looked scared. His emotions softened.

"Do you want to come with me?" Simon held out his hand.

Marceline stared at him.

"It's dangerous out here, for a little girl like you. I don't want you getting hurt. You are alone, aren't you?"

"Y-yes…" Marceline finally admitted, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

"Oh no, I'm sorry." He hadn't wanted to make her cry again. "Come with me, Marceline, please. You can trust me." Simon remembered the last time he had tried to convince someone to stay with him. He ignored the painful sensation that erupted in the pit of his stomach at the thought.

"O-okay," she whispered, gently placing her small hand in his. Simon supposed to most people, her hand would have been extremely cold during this time in summer. To Simon, it was pleasantly warm.

He smiled at her again, adjusting the cracked glasses on his nose.

"Let's go find some place safe, shall we?"

She nodded, her eyes suddenly bright with happiness.

They had both met, alone and scared, and now they were leaving together, Simon noted. Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something extraordinary. But then again, that could just be the crown talking.

Holding hands, Simon and Marceline walked out into the world, each a little more whole then they had been before.


	4. Day Three, part Two

I have been through much in the past week or so, but meeting Marceline seems to have changed me the most. I have only known her for a few hours, but I feel…different, in someway.

The crown seems to have used my sudden emotion as its advantage. Brief seconds of pain and visions will shake me, more vicious and more often then before. Marceline will look at me and ask if I'm okay, but I cannot tell her what ails me, not yet at least. At her age, she wouldn't understand.

I have learned much about Marceline, making me rethink everything I have every learned about the history of vampires. When I questioned her on her eating habits, worried on how I was supposed to find blood for her, she laughed and told me that she didn't drink blood; she simply ate the color red.

This seemed highly improbable, so she proceeded to show me, peeling a colorful wrapper off a can from my backpack. She simply placed one of her sharp teeth upon it, and instantly the red color began draining from the wrapper, looking as though it was melting into her tooth. I didn't exactly understand how this occurred, but the professional side of me wanted to know more. I kept myself from asking the questions that came to mind. I had to remind myself that this girl has probably been through much in the past few days. I shouldn't pressure her.

At the moment, Marceline is asleep, her head resting against my leg as I sit in a torn up old armchair that I had found resting on its side in the middle of the street. The stuffed bear, which she has deemed 'Hambo', is tucked tightly under her arms. I just realized that I had placed my left hand on Marceline's head, my index finger subconsciously twirling a strand of her hair on it. I sigh, placing my hand back into my lap. The sky momentarily fogs up around me, and I freeze. I take a deep breath and exhale again, slower this time. As the carbon dioxide from my lungs touches the air, it immediately evaporates, showering the sky with mist.

I can feel a shiver run up my spine. How is it now, on a humid summer's day, that this is happening? I know how in winter, the heat of your breath counteracts with the cold air. Is the opposite happening to me? Is my breath now so cold that I can see it evaporate? This worries me. I can feel the crown vibrating slightly by my side…

~~~

Simon looked down at the crown, and then at the sleeping Marceline curled up against his side. He could feel a force, almost like gravity, slowly pulling his hand down. His fingers brushed against the crown…

It was like being sucked forward in a wind tunnel. Simon could feel himself losing consciousness as pain wrapped around him, forcing him to give into whatever was calling him to it.

The world went black.

Simon's eyes slowly inched open. It was snowing, wherever he was. He lifted up an aching arm and brushed snow off his face and stomach.

Get up.

A loud, overpowering voice reverberated in the walls of Simon's head. It was unlike any voice he had heard before, cold and inhuman. Simon pressed his hands onto his closed eyelids until he could see spots. His head was pounding with a terrible migraine.

"Stop…" he moaned. "I'll do anything, just please stop this pain…it's unbearable…"

Accept the crown then, Simon Petrikov.

Simon's eyes flew open, and with a sudden surge of strength, he jumped to his feet. His surroundings were nothing but a flat plain covered with delicate white snow. As far as he could tell, he was alone.

"Y-you…you're the one who did this to me." Simon wasn't sure who he was talking to, but he knew that the voice in his head belonged to the crown.

You're only making it difficult for yourself. The crown will win, eventually.

"N-no…I'll never let you win. Do you hear me? NEVER!" Simon viciously swung his arm in front of him. His hand glowed bright blue and a beam shot out of his fingertips, turning a section of snow into a pillar of crystal-clear ice.

Simon could hear the voice in his head laughing, a terrifying noise, worse than a million ear-piercing screams.

But Simon, the voice mused, you've already lost.

Simon felt the same force that made him enter this terrible plane pull him backwards, the horrible laughter still ringing in his ears.

Safe in his chair, Simon woke with a start.


	5. Day Four

The sun was just rising as Simon and Marceline reached the top of the hill, which was called (as said by a broken, slightly twisted wooden sign lying at the hill's base) Border Hill. The peak overlooked two different cities, and actually had faint wisps of green grass beginning to grow out of the old, burnt remains.

Marceline laughed and ran the last few feet of the hill's steep slope until she was at the top, jumping up and down while enjoying the view. Simon smiled and shook his head, trying to keep up with her pace.

"Come on Simon!" she said smiling, grabbing his hands the moment he got to the top and pulling him over to sit down.

"Just a moment Marcy, I've got to check something."

He swung his backpack off his shoulder, opening it and taking out a map. He unfolded the map, looking from one city to the other, then nodding.

"Looks like we're going in the right direction."

"Where are we going?" Marceline asked, still holding one of his hands in both of hers.

"Just another city. But we need to stock up on more supplies. We're running low."

"Oh, okay." She started humming slightly, staring intently up at Simon.

"Now, come on, we have no time to waste." He looked down at Marceline, who was still staring at him. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No. I was just wondering, why are you so cold? Your hands are freezing."

"Er…it's just a kind of illness I have. It's not dangerous or anything."

"You're lying."

"What are you talking about?" Simon was surprised she had known this so quickly.

"I've seen you late at night, mumbling about ice and frost. There's something you're not telling me."

"Marceline," said Simon in a stern tone that didn't fit him. "it's none of your business at the moment."

She stared at him, looking surprised, before she spoke again. "Can you at least tell me why you always carry around that crown?" She pointed to the crown hanging at his side. "Are you some kind of 'ice king'?"

Simon knew that she was only saying it sarcastically, but the voices in his head roared to life at the words 'ice king', encouraging Simon to agree with this title, but he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"I'm not a king," he said simply.

Marceline stared at him, confused. Simon knew that he hadn't given her much of an answer.

"Could you put it on?"

"What?" Simon looked at her, shocked.

"The crown. I want to see what you look like with it on. Please?" She looked at him with pleading eyes, reminding Simon just how much of a child she really was, even if she didn't always act like one.

"F-fine…" Simon unhooked the crown from his belt loop with shaky hands. He brought it up over his head, just an inch away from touching his white hair.

"What's wrong?" asked Marceline.

"Nothing." Simon took a deep breath in and out, managing a weak smile. "Absolutely nothing."

He allowed the crown to slip from his fingers and fall onto his head.

For a moment, he just stood there, looking rather dignified. The crown was glittering in the morning sun, surrounding Simon with a pale blue glow.

Then it hit him.

Rage. Pure, boundless, almost painful rage. Suddenly, Simon was angry at everything. He was angry at the end of the world and whoever or whatever had caused it. He was angry at Betty for leaving him. But most of all, he was angry at the stupid little girl standing in front of him, holding him back, wasting his time.

Marceline's smile faltered as Simon's worried expression curled into a grimace, his hands clenching and unclenching.

"O-okay…You can take it off now Simon."

He appeared not to have heard her.

"Simon?" she asked, worried, reaching for his arm.

This time he reacted, violently swiping Marceline's hand away from him, knocking her to the ground. She cowered as he leaned over her, anger etched into every line of his face. Snowflakes began slowly falling to the ground around them.

"HOW DARE YOU TRY AND TOUCH ME! DO YOU WANT TO TAKE THE CROWN FROM ME? I WON'T ALLOW IT! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM, GIRL? I AM THE ICE K-"

Simon suddenly stopped, the anger draining from his face, replaced by horror. Marceline was shivering at his feet, tears gathering in her eyes. Simon put his hands over his mouth, breathing heavily. The snow abruptly stopped falling.

"Oh my God…Marceline…what did I do?" Simon pulled the crown off his head and threw it to the ground beside him before falling to his knees and burying his face in his hands.

"I'm so sorry…I'm so very sorry." Tears slid down his face. Was he going to hurt everyone he cared about?

"Simon, are you okay?"

"No. I'm not." What was the point in lying?

Marceline crawled over to Simon, and though she was obviously still frightened, wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm falling apart Marceline…I don't know what I'm going to do with myself," he muttered.

"Why don't you get rid of that crown?"

Simon looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "I can't. It won't let me."

"Is the crown…alive?" The idea sounded ridiculous.

"No. But I think there's something inside of it that is."

Simon put his arms around Marceline's shoulders, and she rested her face underneath his.

"Don't worry Simon, I'll protect you. You'll be the king, and I'll be your knight."

"Of course you will, my dear."

Simon couldn't help but smile.


	6. Day Five

I told Marceline that I left to go look for food. That was a lie. I left looking for answers. She's staying at our campsite where I know she is more than able to fend for herself, while I went searching for something that I had seen when we had entered the city. Something that had been exhibiting a single plume of smoke into the gray sky.

I searched for hours until I was in the center of the city, in what was probably a park area. There, the trees burnt and broken, a huge oak had been completely torn out of the ground, lying on its side, roots dangling limply outward. In the center of this catastrophe was a plane, cut almost perfectly in half. The cockpit window was shattered, the engine of the plane still smoking. Everything else that had caught fire had gone out days ago, so whatever had happened to this plane had been recent.

I walked around to the front of the plane. There was a man dangling out of the broken window, dressed in camouflage and dripping blood onto the ground. I ran to him, lifting his face up. There was a flicker of life behind his dull eyes. His hands scrambled to grab my torn jacket. I cringed, noticing one of his hands was missing two fingers.

"It…it all went wrong…It wasn't supposed to end like this," he had said, before making a horrifying noise like a death rattle, and falling forward onto me, dead.

I placed the man onto the ground and continue the rest of my search shaking. What had he meant, that it had all went wrong? Underneath the engine, I had found a hatch, and forcing the rusted metal open with my hands, had to jump backwards as a pile of large metal objects rolled out. Bombs. Atomic bombs.

The explosions that had occurred were no natural incident. It had all been planned. They had purposely destroyed everything.

~~~

Marceline sat crossed legged, playing with Hambo until she heard the sound of footsteps. She flung her head back, looking behind her.

"Wh-oh, Simon, it's just you." She smiled, relieved, until she noticed he had a blank expression on his face, the irises of his eyes such a pale blue that they were almost white. The crown was perched atop his head.

"Oh no," she whispered, clutching Hambo to her chest and backing up slowly.

But Simon didn't come near her. He fell to the ground next to the small campfire that he and Marceline had worked on this morning, pulling his legs into his chest and resting his forehead against his knees.

Marceline was afraid to come too close to him, worried that he would lash out at her like he had done yesterday.

"Why do people kill each other, Marceline?" He said suddenly, speaking into his knees.

"I…I don't know Simon." He was talking so softy, his voice was hoarse but his words were steady.

"What could there possibly be to gain from the slaughter of millions?"

Marceline took a deep breath and walked over to Simon, sitting next to him but not daring to touch him. He didn't look at her.

"Where did you go?" she asked. He had come back empty handed, except for the small notebook that he carried around everywhere. His hands were gripped tightly around it. They were covered with fresh blood.

"Hell," he whispered softly.

Marceline chose not to respond to this.

"You're wearing the crown Simon."

For the first time since he returned, Simon looked up at her. Marceline shivered under his cold gaze. His eyes were filled with confusion.

"I'm what?"

Marceline held her arms out, slowly reaching for the crown perched on Simon's head. This time he didn't yell at her. He didn't do anything in fact, just sat there staring as she lifted it off him. Immediately, his eyes focused and the color faded back to ice blue.

"Wh-what just happened? One moment I was…next to a plane and now I'm…" he looked at Marceline. "Marceline? When did you get here?"

"I've been here just like you told me to be Simon. You just walked over here with the crown on, asking about murder or something like that."

Simon ran a hand through his white hair, shaking his head and blinking like a person who had just woken up. Then he frowned, hand moving to clutch at his chest.

"Give me back the crown," he said suddenly, reaching for it with his other hand.

"What? No, it makes you insane!" Marceline slid backwards, lifting the crown above her head.

"You don't understand. It has to stay on my person. I…I feel like I'm about to vomit."

Marceline looked at him skeptically.

"I'll put it on my belt loop, I promise," Simon said with a pained expression.

"I'll do it," said Marceline. She wasn't going to take any chances. Simon watched her carefully as she leaned forward, undoing the clip on his belt and stringing a rope around the crown, tying it with a tight knot. The moment she let go, the crown felt against Simon's leg. He closed his eyes and sighed, the pain leaving his face.

"That didn't happen yesterday, when you threw the crown to the ground," Marceline said, leaning back against a metal pipe.

"Well it did, but it certainly didn't hurt like this," said Simon, crossing his arms and staring into the fire.

For a long period of time, they said nothing to each other, until Simon slipped his hand into his pants pocket and pulled out his battered pocket watch, opening the cover and staring at the picture inside of it. Marceline leaned over to look at it.

"Who's she?" Marceline asked curiously.

"Betty," Simon muttered softly. The expression on his face was one of sadness and affection.

Marceline pursed her lips, watching Simon carefully.

"Why do people take pictures?"

Simon blinked and looked up, staring into the sky which was clouded with ash.

"I suppose…to remember people when they're gone."

Marceline stood up, walking over to Simon's backpack, which was lying, momentarily discarded, on top of two bricks. She rummaged inside for a bit, pulling out an old camera. She walked back to Simon, who was again staring at Betty's picture. Marceline held the camera out.

"Will you take a picture of me?"

"Why?"

"So you won't forget me."

The corners of Simon's mouth twitched. He closed the pocket watch with a snap, sticking it back into his pocket.

"Sure."

He took the camera from her, fumbling slightly with it as he pulled off the lens. He stood up, holding the camera close to his face.

"Okay, ready?"

Marceline smiled. "Ready."

There was a sharp clicking noise and a bright flash of light. The camera spit out a black photo. Marceline frowned.

"Oh no, the camera's broken."

"Just wait," said Simon, "It takes some time to develop."

They stood together, watching as the black slowly formed into colors and outlines, finishing with a clear picture of Marceline.

"You're never allowed to lose that picture," she said to Simon, pushing the picture into his hands.

"No?" he asked, amused.

"No. You better not forget me."

"I won't."

"Promise," she said indignantly.

"I promise."


	7. Day Six

The Mushroom War had been going on for years. Everybody had known that. But the atomic bombs were being used halfway across the world, so nobody had felt any need to panic. It wasn't affecting us. We were all so very wrong. When had they decided to kill everyone? Who had pressed the final button, allowed the attack to happen? Why would they have wanted to cause the apocalypse?

So many questions and no one to answer them. I will have to find out for myself. Marceline doesn't understand my concerns on the matter. She runs through the ruins like they were a playground. Her laughter is so out of place in this new world. It's filled with nothing but terror and depression, yet she finds some way to keep her chin up. Maybe I need to learn from her, if only I didn't have my own problems to deal with.

The crown seems to be growing stronger, much stronger than I am. I need it like it is some kind of drug and I am an addict, hopelessly lost without it. It takes all of my power to keep from putting it on my head. The feel of it as I run my fingers over its edges is terrifying. The metal is freezing, and the voices, the visions, everything that ails me grows overpowering. I can hear it whispering to me, promising immortality and power. Oh God how I want to give in.

~~~

"Simon, look at what I found!"

Simon looked up, quickly sliding his journal into his pocket and pretending to be watching the food on the fire like he was supposed to be doing.

"What is it Marcy?"

He had looked away from her for only a few seconds, and she had already found some way to run off without him noticing. Slowly Marceline walked into view, Hambo tucked underneath her arm. She was dragging something large behind her back.

Goodness, what has she picked up this time? Simon thought to himself, slightly worried.

Marceline had the eccentric talent of collecting the strangest things. She was constantly picking up the skulls of small animals, which Simon had thrown out when she wasn't paying attention. Just the other night she had found a large rat and had attempted to convince Simon to let her keep it as a pet so that it wouldn't be lonely. Simon had gotten his way only after promising Marceline left and right that they would find a good home for the rat. He had thrown the filthy thing into the nearest building without giving it a second thought, though it had felt wrong to lie to Marceline.

"A guitar!" Marceline said happily, carrying the instrument into their campsite and laying it down next to Simon's backpack.

"Would you look at that," Simon said, actually interested in Marceline's findings for once.

The guitar was in near perfect condition. The strings were a bit old looking, and there was a long scratch mark in the bottom of the wood like someone had used it for a shield, but other than that, it was fine.

"If you watch the food for a little bit, I can tune it," Simon said, standing up and handing the wooden spoon he was holding to Marceline. "Just be careful not to burn yourself."

"I'll be fine," she said, playfully sticking her tongue out at him and kneeling down next to the fire.

Simon sat on a fallen telephone pole and picked up the guitar, resting it on his knees.

"Do you play?" Marceline asked, poking the beans that were cooking in a pot and wrinkling her nose slightly.

"A little," Simon said. Memories of playing for Betty flew into his mind. He quickly focused his thoughts upon something else. Anything other than Betty. He strummed a few chords, shaking his head as an unpleasant sound echoed out of the instrument. "This will take a lot of tuning."

"That's okay," Marceline said. "I really want to hear you play it though. Can you sing?"

Simon laughed and shook his head.

"I'm not one for singing. Not at all." Betty was always the one to sing, he thought sadly.

Marceline giggled. "Yeah, you don't look like it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Simon said, his eyebrows raised in question.

"You're a nerd. Nerds don't sing."

"I'm not a nerd," Simon muttered, fingers running over the guitar strings.

"You have a backpack full of textbooks." Marceline said plainly, pointing to his bag with the wooden spoon. "And huge round glasses," she said, leaning over to him and pulling his cracked blue glasses off his face.

"Marceline, give those back right now," Simon said, his vision blurred.

Marceline grinned and backed out of Simon's reach, putting the glasses on her nose.

"I'm Simon Petrikov, and I'm the world's biggest nerd. I read books all the time and I can't sing!" she said, dancing around.

"Marcy!" Simon said, trying not to laugh with her. He dropped the guitar onto the ground and lunged forward, snatching Marceline off her feet and pulling her into his arms. She laughed gleefully as he took his glasses back and rested them on the bridge of his nose. "Okay, so I am a nerd. Happy?"

Marceline nodded and wrapped her arms around Simon's neck.

"You're nothing but trouble, you know that right?" Simon said, grinning.

"Yeah, but you love me for it!"

"That's true," he said, placing Marceline back on her feet and taking the spoon from her. He reached down to the fire and grabbed the pot of food.

"Hey, how are you doing that? Marceline asked as he turned away from the fire and walked over to his backpack.

"Doing what?" Simon said, rummaging through the bag with his empty hand, looking for his supply of red objects for Marceline.

"Holding the pot by the metal part and not burning yourself."

Simon quickly turned his head, staring at his hand. The protective grip on the handle had fallen off without him noticing, and he was holding it by the burning metal. Simon felt the now familiar hum of the crown by his side and sighed. He quickly put the pot on the ground and pulled out a large red t-shirt.

"Catch," he said, throwing the shirt at Marceline.

"Finally! I'm starving!" Marceline said, collapsing onto the ground.

"I'd never think I'd hear someone say that while holding a sweaty t-shirt," Simon said, shaking his head and sitting next to her.

"You can't say anything, eating that disgusting mush." She pointed at the pot.

"It's just beans Marceline, they're not disgusting. Though, after eating them for seven straight days in a row, I might have to agree with you."

Marceline grinned and placed the edge of the shirt in her mouth, quickly draining it of its color.

"Will you play for me after we eat?" Marceline asked, throwing the now useless gray shirt aside and pointing at the guitar.

Simon nodded, swallowing a mouthful of hot food.

"Why are you so interested in the guitar?" he asked.

"I've always wanted to play!" Marceline said eagerly. "My mom was going to let me take lessons in a few years," she said, expression changing into a frown. "But now…"

"I can teach you," Simon said, turning the subject back onto something happy.

"Would you really?" Marceline asked, smiling again. "Thank you!" she shouted happily, wrapping her arms around him.

Simon pushed the pot of food aside and picked up the guitar. He wasn't feeling that hungry at the moment anyway. Marceline rested her head against his arm as he finished tuning it. Simon smiled to himself. This was one of the few times that he could actually spend some time with Marceline and not have to worry about anything. Even the crown was quiet; its visions seemed to fade into the background.

"You're so cool Simon. You're a better dad to me then my own dad was." Marceline said suddenly, lazily tracing a pattern into the dirt with her fingers.

Simon frowned slightly, still fumbling with the guitar. "Come on now, your dad couldn't have been that bad. Not if he raised a sweet little girl like you."

"Yeah he was. He was a jerk." Marceline said indifferently, as though it didn't matter to her. "He was almost never home, and when he was he would tease me all the time. And it's thanks to him that I eat red stuff." She opened her mouth and pointed to one of her fangs.

"Was he a…a demon?"

"Yeah," Marceline said unhappily. "He's the ruler of the nightosphere."

"The nightosphere?" Simon had no idea what that was, but it didn't sound like anything good.

"Huge underworld filled with demons. I bet that's where he is right now. He ran out on me and my mom…he left us to die."

"What does he look like? I'll know to keep an eye out for him."

"Uh…he always wears a business suit," Marceline said, beginning to count out on her fingers. "I don't think I've ever seen him without one on. He's got blue skin like yours, and red slits in his eyes for pupils." She put up two more fingers. "And he's got fangs like mine, but he doesn't eat the color red."

"Well what does he eat, blood?" Simon asked, worried.

"No, he eats souls," Marceline said, a little too calm for Simon's liking.

"Souls?" Simon's hand flew up to grip his throat. He swallowed roughly. "That's terrible."

"Yeah…he sucked the soul of my old dog when it peed on the carpet. He's got a really bad temper sometimes." Marceline ran her fingers along Hambo's fur.

"He does sound like a...jerk." Simon could think of many other words that he would like to use instead.

"See? And you didn't believe me. Are you done tuning yet?"

"Wh-oh, yeah." Simon had been unnecessarily fiddling with the knobs of the guitar for the last few minutes. He pulled the guitar up to his chest. "Now, it's been a while since I've played, so it might not be perfect."

"You'll be fine," Marceline said reassuringly.

Simon bit his lip, wracking his mind for a song to play. He hadn't practiced since long before his trip to Scandinavia. There had been so much work planning it, and not enough room to pack it. And afterwards…well, playing guitar hadn't been the first thing on his mind.

There had been a song that Betty had loved to sing, often when she didn't think anybody was listening in. He could practically hear her voice. His fingers seemed to move of their own accord.

Come along with me,

To a town beside the sea.

We can wander through the forest

And do so as we please.

Simon smiled as the silent night air was filled with the smooth sound of the guitar and the gentle crackle of the fire. Marceline was smiling, the fire throwing shadows across her pale face. Her arms were wrapped tightly around Hambo, whose bright red color had begun to fade.

Come along with me

To a cliff under a tree

Where we'll gaze upon the water,

As an everlasting dream.

Marceline was humming softly, holding Hambo out in front of her and pretending to make him dance along to the music. Simon was half-way absorbed in his memories, remember how he and Betty used to dance together. Neither of them had been the best dancers, but spending time together and laughing at each other had made it wonderful.

"All of my affections,

I'll give them all to you.

I'll be here for you always,

and always be for you."

Simon blushed as he realized he had sung the last few lines aloud. Marceline stared at him before grinning and wrapping her arms around him. Simon slowly finished the song.

"Come along with me, to a town beside the sea, we can wander through the forest, and do so as we please. Living so merrily."

It was silent as the last few chords drifted off into the night sky.

"I was wrong about your singing. It's wonderful."

Simon smiled sadly, lost in an array of memories.

"Come on Marcy, it's late. You should get to sleep."

Marceline frowned. "But you said you were going to teach me how to play!"

"Not now. In the morning, I promise. Here, take this." Simon set down the guitar so he could pull a thin grey blanket and a small pillow out of his bag.

Marceline sighed, but didn't argue as she laid the pillow on the ground and curled herself up in the blanket.

"'Night Simon."

"Good night Marceline."

Simon picked a stick off the ground and poked at the fire, watching the sparks drift into the air, listening as Marceline's breathing slowed as she drifted asleep.

'I'll be here for you always,

And always be for you.'

He had sung that line with Betty so many months ago. It had felt like a promise to her that he had broken. His eyes drifted to Marceline then back to the fire. There was no way he was going to leave her. He was going to protect her, even if it killed him. He wasn't going to let anyone else down, ever again.


End file.
